


An Afternoon of Painting

by NachtGraves



Series: Andreil Week 2018 [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baker Neil, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Painter Andrew, misuse of acrylics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 12:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: Neil tries to be helpful and the boys play with paints.





	An Afternoon of Painting

**Author's Note:**

> For day five of [AndreilWeek2018](http://andreilweek.tumblr.com).
> 
> Prompts: colors, ~~soulmates, stadium lights~~
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://nachtgraves.tumblr.com)!

It’s late in the afternoon and Neil hasn’t seen Andrew since he left for work early in the morning, covering the opening shift at the bakery for Matt. Waking up early just meant he got to come home earlier, though, and he’s brought back some of Andrew’s favorite snacks that are far too sweet for Neil.

He’s immediately greeted by the cats as he enters the apartment, Sir winds himself around Neil’s feet, rubbing his face into Neil’s calves and purring. King lazily hops down from his spot on the couch and waits until he receives a scratch behind the ears before going back to napping.

Their apartment is a two bedroom, but the second one was immediately converted into a home studio the second they moved in. If Andrew’s not up for visitors, cats, or distracting boyfriends, he keeps the door closed, otherwise it’s usually cracked open and soft music spills out into the rest of the apartment.

Setting his belongings down on the coffee table, Neil picks up Sir who happily nuzzles into Neil’s arms, and quietly walks to the open door, peeking inside. Andrew stands in front of a giant canvas, almost the length of the wall it’s propped up against and several inches taller than the blond painter

Neil likes watching Andrew work. The way he turns a blank canvas into something alive with simple, easy looking brush strokes. They’re not colorful, most of Andrew’s work are studies in shades of gray, but Neil could be stuck in a room covered floor to ceiling with Andrew’s paintings and find interest in each greyscale canvas. So seeing a tubs of bright orange, red, and yellow paints has Neil stepping into the room.

“I didn’t think you knew paint came in colors other than greys and black,” he teases.

Andrew finishes a stroke before he turns around and lands Neil with a deadpan glare. “Keep the cat out. You’re dealing with him if he gets covered in paint again.”

“I forgot to close the door _once_. And you left the door open this time.” Still, Neil kisses the top of Sir’s head and sets him down outside of the room. Sir looks up at him, eyes wide and if a cat could pout, he definitely was, but Neil waves him off to join King on the couch. He closes the door behind him and comes up to Andrew.

“Is this is a commission?” Neil asks, because that’s the only reason Andrew would have such bright colors in his studio. He’s working with red right now, blocking in the shape of what’s looking like a fox in grey-white woods.

“Kevin,” Andrew responds as he goes back to work, lining out the fox’s tail, big and fluffy. “Be useful and grab me the orange over there.”

Neil rolls his eyes but grabs the bucket and lugs it over next to the open container of red. He sits down and tries to open it, scratching at the tape sealing it shut and then trying to pry open the lid. He’s not very successful and Andrew huffs above him.

“Let me do it before you spill paint everywhere.”

“I almost have it, just hold on a sec.” Neil digs his nail into the tiny gap between the lid and the bucket and tugs. It’s a stubborn lid, but Neil’s even more stubborn and all by claws at the lid, trying to leverage it out.

“Neil, you’re going to—”

The lid comes free but Neil doesn’t have a chance to bathe in victory because he’s bathed in splotches of bright orange acrylic.

“What did I say?” Neil looks up to Andrew looking down at him like he’s one of the cats when they were new and familiarizing themselves to the apartment.

Neil sticks his tongue out at his boyfriend and takes off his orange splattered shirt. Considering how many of Andrew’s clothes are paint stained, this would be nothing new to the washing machine.

“I only got it on myself,” Neil says, standing up. He uses his already ruined shirt to wipe at his face, the sticky cool feeling of paint not very comfortable.

Andrew steps away from the painting and comes up to Neil, a quiet heat in his eyes. Neil cocks his head to the side. “What?”

Andrew’s gaze lingers on Neil’s face before roaming down his now bare chest. “You missed a spot.”

Neil frowns. “Where?” He looks down as Andrew points with the paint brush in his hands.

“Right here,” Andrew says, painting a stripe of red from Neil’s sternum down to his bellybutton.

 “Andrew!” The wet bristles of the paint brush are an odd feeling down his chest, soft but wet. Neil curls in on himself, a shudder runs down his spine. In retaliation, he bends and dips a finger into the bucket of orange and swipes paint across Andrew’s nose and cheeks before he can back away or defend himself with his paint brush. Neil grins, pleased with the bright orange mark on Andrew’s face accompanied by furrowed brows and eyes that shout a warning.

Kevin’s commission is forgotten and Neil finds himself sprawled on the floor with Andrew kneeling over him, his shirt discarded in a corner. Their hands are a mess of orange, white, and red paints, put to use against bared skin. Neil’s work is a mess of handprints and smudged lines from stroking up Andrew’s arms and neck as he’s kissed into a puddle on the newspaper covered floorboards. Andrew’s taken more care. Outlines patterns by paint brush until the sensation got too much for Neil but easily switching to his fingers.

Neil’s chest and arms and neck are a gradient of fiery swirls, the gaps filled by Andrew’s mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses and bruising bites into. His wrists are stained in a more splotchy fashion since Andrew has to hold him down eventually, Neil squirming too much.

“You’re messing up my work,” Andrew says even as he purposely sucks a vicious hickey into Neil’s hip and there’s no way Neil can lie still through it.

Neil closes his eyes and loses himself to Andrew’s touch, to the coolness of the paint against his lust-warmed skin. He feels Andrew kiss his way back up Neil’s chest until Andrew’s mouth is back on his and Neil’s hands are freed to go back to Andrew’s shoulders.

Neil’s more than content to lie on the floor with Andrew on top of him, kissing and touching, for the rest of the afternoon. But after a while Andrew pulls away and glares at the closed door where, after a moment, Neil registers scratching.

They get up off the floor and Neil goes to the door. The scratching stops as soon as he opens it and sitting in front are Sir and King, looking up at him expectantly.

“Hungry?” Neil smiles down at them. He wants to pick them up but getting paint out of their fur is much more of a hassle than getting paint off his own skin is going to be.

Neil washes his hands as best as he can before filling up the cats’ food bowls. They immediately start eating and Neil ventures back to Andrew’s studio to see Andrew’s gone right back to work. He stares at the orange and red handprints all along Andrew’s shoulders and neck, eyes tracing the paths his hands had taken.

Andrew, working with his familiar greys, looks over his shoulder and quirks a brow. “Forgot something?”

Neil smiles and shakes his head. “I’m going to shower. There’re brownies in the fridge from the bakery if you want them.”

Andrew may be good at keeping emotions off his face, but Neil can spot the few slips and hints of interest at the prospect of sweets. He waves Neil off as if disinterested, but Neil knows that the brownies will be gone before he gets out of the shower.

—

Days later, when Neil’s going through Andrew’s studio and cleaning up, he finds some new paints tucked away in one of the shelves. They’re small, but brightly colored, a set of twelve liquid latex body paints.


End file.
